


White Hart

by versus_versus



Series: Long Live the Children of War [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Assisted Suicide, Emperor Hux, M/M, Suicide, here you go have some goddamn pain, lord protector Kylo Ren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 06:37:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6318583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/versus_versus/pseuds/versus_versus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Give me my robe. Put on my crown. I have immortal longings in me."<br/>In the end, the success of the Resistance leaves the Emperor with few options.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Hart

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt: "Okay since we were at the whole "assisted suicide" topic yesterday... Can't get Antony and Cleopatra out of my head, and just... Imagine Emperor Hux when the Resistance comes into his castle, slowly creeping closer, and there is no way to escape, and he just accepts his fate and all I can think of his Shakespeare quote "Give me my robe. Put on my crown. I have/Immortal longings in me." Like. Kylo helping him dress up for the last time. The love. The reverence in evry movement. The soft kisses." via [betweenheroesandvillains](http://betweenheroesandvillains.tumblr.com/)
> 
> OH. FINE THEN. WE’LL GO THERE.  
> It started off as a drabble and blew up so here you go. I’m just going to go curl into a ball of emotional exhaustion now.
> 
> EDIT: Oh look, I made an 8tracks mix for you guys too. [It's here.](http://8tracks.com/versus-a-blank-paper/gravitational-collapse-turned-supernova)

“The white stag has played a prominent role in many cultures' mythology…Arthurian legend states that the creature has a perennial ability to evade capture, and that the pursuit of the animal represents mankind's spiritual quest. It also signaled that the time was nigh for the knights of the kingdom to pursue a quest.”

* * *

The Emperor sat in the rose garden when the Lord Protector found him, a darkened holopad on his lap.

Anyone else would have thought nothing wrong, given the serenity of the scene. The roses were in early bloom, budding promises of color and new life in the course of a few more days. The air moved with the flight of the occasional bird or butterfly, beautiful creatures preserved in this last place, a conservatory for otherwise extinct organisms, species unique to the planets he’d annihilated. Kylo had sprinted there, and his distress was plain to see. “Hux, they're…”

“I know. Help me with a few things?” It was a question, not a command. Hux looked tired, so tired. He hadn’t put concealer on his face that morning, not expecting to meet with any dignitaries or have any public appearances. His skin, always pale, had gone nearly translucent, the veins often visible through the faintly freckle-spotted surface. Shadows surrounded his eyes, as light and clear as ever, but he was haggard and thin. 

Even as he’d risen to power, his body had slowly started to degrade from the stress. He’d held up well as general, willowy but muscular for his lean frame. As Emperor, his body had gone from lean to downright gaunt, and try as Kylo might, there was nothing he could do to protect Hux from his own conscience.

* * *

The Emperor's chambers were as orderly as they ever were, and the only sign of the oncoming storm was the empty cut-glass vase, usually full of flowers from the conservatories the Emperor had spent time overseeing. It had been a near-fanatic desperation that had led him to preserve as many remaining examples of vegetation and life from the Hosnian system as possible, hunting down all samples that had been transported off-planet and hiring geneticists to clone those that had been recovered from the debris. Hux’s rise to power had begun in bloodshed, but he’d tried to build something that would last. The mantle of power was a heavy burden, and in some small way, he’d tried to assuage the damage he’d done. His efforts would never be enough, and he slept every night with the weight of billions of deaths pressing on him.

He pulled off his overcoat, straightening the light shirt that lay beneath it as he pulled his dress whites from his wardrobe. Before he had the chance to start dressing himself, Kylo caught his hand, stilling it on the collar of the jacket.

“Let me?”

The jacket was gently pulled from his hand and held out for him to slip into. The shoulders were padded, but he could still feel Kylo squeeze them tightly before going to fetch the belt. Hux wondered dully if it was meant to comfort him or if Kylo had done it to reassure himself.

Kylo helped him dress, going through what had once been a familiar pattern, pressing slow kisses to his face, his neck, but never his lips. In that short time between when they’d recognized the thing between them and Hux’s rise to Emperor, Kylo had often asked to help him dress in the mornings, hoping for a couple more moments of vulnerability before they each donned the masks the First Order demanded of them.

There was no doubt Kylo could read his plan, even through the walls Hux held up in his mind. The rebels couldn’t have either of them. If any of the Empire was to survive, all state secrets that risked exposure under duress would have to die with the Emperor.

The silence between them this time was near unbearable as Kylo adjusted the belt and sash, the knowledge that this was it. The dress whites cut the ghastly pallor of his skin with warmer cream tones, the deep red sash and gold accents throwing his hair into fiery contrast. The crown, gilded laurels and spires, sat atop a cloth, waiting to be placed on his head for the last time.

The silence finally broke. “You truly plan to go through with it?”

Hux looked at him sharply. “There is no other option.”

“You could run…” Kylo’s words were flat, and they both knew they were just for show.

“Hah. No, there’s no place in the galaxy that I could run that they wouldn’t eventually hunt me down, not with the last of the jedi on our heels like this.” He seemed to consider. “Besides, that would decimate the Empire. The Emperor, a coward? No. But if I die to protect state secrets…”

“You intend to put a final broadcast up. To prevent the Resistance from twisting it in their favor.”

“Precisely.”

Kylo seemed to struggle for a moment, then nodded reluctant acceptance. “What can I do for you?”

“Help me with the recording. And when that’s done, perhaps do it for me, if the Force is painless in comparison to a blaster bolt to the head.” Hux gave him a wry, humorless smile that turned to a grimace as he saw Kylo blanch with growing horror.

“You can't seriously ask that of me.”

Hux pinched his lips and his skin looked drawn, stretched too thin. “You want to be helpful, give me one last gift. Don’t make me do it myself.” He went to a dressing table and grabbed a container of powdered concealer, quickly brushing it on to hide the shadows under his eyes. “I’ll let you mull it over while I figure out what I’m going to say.”

* * *

Kylo’s hands were unsteady as he placed the crown on his Emperor’s head. Hux closed his eyes, unable to meet his gaze, dark and impossibly deep. The weight settled about his temples in a careful, reverent action, the crowning of a man who approached his doom with shoulders squared.

He opened his eyes to find that Kylo had turned away, perhaps unable to face the reality of what was happening.

The Empire was falling, and, as the saying went, a Captain goes down with his ship. Hux took a deep breath. “I have another request.”

“As if the first one isn’t hard enough?”

“With my death, the Empire will likely fall. You know it as well as I. I won’t provide the rebels with the information they need to extinguish it entirely. There needs to be order, and the path the Resistance wishes to take is chaos. I won’t condemn the rest of the Empire with my downfall.”

“And?”

“I won’t condemn you either. I want you to leave the Empire.”

The very idea of abandoning the system he’d served so long shook Kylo to the core. It had to be some kind of sick joke, but no, Hux stared him down with eyes as clear as day. “What…?”

“Leave it all behind. You could just…disappear.” He paused for a breath. “You said years ago, sometimes Force-users’ bodies just fade into nothing.”

Kylo nodded slowly. “Yes…?”

“We’ll fake your death, throw the rebels off your trail for a time.”

“Not without you.”

Hux, no, the Emperor, gave a bitter laugh. “I’ve belonged to the Empire and the Order since the day I was born. You were born for something…bigger. Better.” He paused for a moment, the mask falling so Kylo could see the raw human that Hux was behind the trappings of the Emperor. “You’ve always been more than a pawn for this machine. But I’m the king, and they’ve checkmated us soundly.”

In an eerie display of affection that threatened to rip Kylo's heart from his chest, Hux reached up, touching the scar that crossed his face. “I want you to keep living, to try to find the life you might have had without Snoke. Without the Order and the Empire.”

“You’re sentencing me to a lifetime of pain.”

“I would ask you to live a life of your own if you could by any means. It's not a sentence, it's a pardon. And I know how to do it, and bring the rebels low in the process.”

* * *

Hux held his composure through the recording. It was a declaration of his intent to end his own life in an effort to protect the remainder of the Empire, his hopes for the future of the Empire, and his wish for someone to keep the rebels from taking his body. Then came the bit of subterfuge claiming that Kylo Ren, once Ben Organa-Solo, preeminent Lord Protector and Force user, had taken his own life and faded into the ether as Force users sometimes did. The Emperor, usually so composed and controlled, broke form as he spoke of his decision. Everyone knew of the rumored liaison between the Emperor and Lord Protector, and those that saw the holo knew it to be true. What else could possibly move a man whose heart had turned to stone to feel something but the death of a lover?

It wasn’t perfect, but it was convincing enough. Certainly it wouldn’t fool the few Force-users the Resistance had, but if he only had to avoid the General, Skywalker, and the scavenger, Kylo might stand a chance of disappearing into the far reaches of the universe. It would strike at their morale, knowing Kylo’s old identity, and it would give him a head start. It was enough.

* * *

Afterwards, Hux stared at him, eyes clear and sharp as they day they’d met. Even so, Kylo could feel his fear, not entirely fear of death, but fear of his own reaction to a slow, painful death. Kylo could read him like a book, even though he was trying to hide his thoughts; Hux was afraid he would hurt Kylo simply by dying slowly. A sickening anxiety twisted in his gut, despite his efforts to quell it.

“Well? Have you decided? Shall we get this over with already?”

Kylo blanched, his emotions all too clear on his face. He raised a hand as if to Force-choke him and Hux could see it trembling, feel the tension in the air between them. There was a long moment and Hux could feel him rifling about in his head, flipping through his thoughts in a frantic rush as if searching for scraps of memories he could snatch away and preserve in his own mind. There was little Hux could do, and he was too tired to keep the walls up anymore as Kylo bypassed them in a last effort to change his mind. “You’re afraid.”

“Everyone is afraid of death, you idiot. Anyone who says otherwise is lying. Besides, you wouldn’t be able to tell if you weren’t in my damn head.” He meant the words to be angry, but they came out softer than expected as he saw the way Kylo faltered, his motions stiff and halting.

“I can’t do this.”

Hux took a deep breath and nodded slowly. “Then I’ll do it myself.” The pit of terror in his gut seemed to grow, expanding like the empty maw of a black hole. “A glass of wine first, I think. To steady my hands. Not that I could miss.” He knew he was an open book, and Kylo wanted to shy away from the words. “Don’t look at me like that. You’ve always been one for gallows humor. Don’t tell me you can’t handle mine in the face of death.”

It was with an odd detachedness that Kylo watched him retrieve a bottle, two glasses, and the blaster that was never far from his side. He opened and poured the bottle, already half finished, with shaking hands. The glass he held out to Kylo was a deep bloody red, a spicy shiraz Hux was strangely fond of. The scent was heady and intense, with overtones of black pepper in the spice.

Hux took a sip from his own glass as he held the second out, willing his hand to be steady as Kylo stared. Ripples circled in the wine from the tremor in his hand, like the first shocks of an earthquake running through the heart of the empire they’d built.

Kylo’s hand clasped around the glass, but he didn’t take it right away. Instead, he stepped altogether too close and claimed Hux’s lips, a kiss for a dying man. It was warm and full of life and desperation, as though it would somehow last forever, as if they could preserve everything they'd had in that moment.

When they finally broke apart, Kylo looked shaken to the core, as if he had taken Hux's fear for himself. And perhaps he had, as Hux found himself remarkably steady with the weight of the fate he’d chosen for himself. Kylo threw back much of the wine, disrespecting the drink that had taken decades to mature in a way that Hux once would have lectured him for. Instead, there was something almost endearing about it, something he wanted to hold on to.

He sipped, looked down at the glass, and sighed. As much as he might want Kylo there, perhaps the desire was overly cruel. “You can leave, you know. I can handle it myself.”

“No. You don’t have to.” Kylo’s hand on his chest was warm and comforting, even through the thick cream fabric. The first stab of pain that shot through his shoulder was almost a relief, although it was so sharp it knocked the remainder of the wine from his hand, spilling it down the front of his white jacket like blood. Hux’s eyes widened and he looked down at Kylo’s hand on his chest, tense as he willed the Force to bring his Emperor's heart to a standstill.

“It’ll be quick.”

“Thank you.” The words seemed to shake in his mouth as his legs weakened and Kylo lowered him to the floor. The crown toppled away as Kylo cradled him close, trying to give any comfort he could.

Hux went slowly, the bond between them open and raw. Kylo had killed hundreds, thousands of men, but none in such an intimate manner that he could feel them dying as though he was killing himself. Never with a Force bond, where he could feel himself slipping away…but no, those were Hux’s thoughts. Kylo could do nothing but hold the pressure on his heart until it finally stopped trying to beat, the desperate flutter of motion arrested entirely by the Force. Hux’s mind flew, ranging from gut-wrenching sadness and regret, to fear of the unknown, to a horrifying unadulterated joy in his own passing. 

Hux’s thoughts sped so fast it was near impossible to follow any of them to completion. Finally, there was an almost infinitesimal moment of calm.

Then a broken bond with nothing on the other end.

Kylo was an implosion, a gravitational collapse turned supernova.

* * *

When he’d finally composed himself, he lay Hux out on the rich red silk covered bed, feeling as though there was all the time in the world. It had to be done properly, damn the approaching Resistance. They would get here when they got here, and they’d die if they arrived before Kylo was finished.

Every bit of glass in the room was smashed, furniture splintered, the very walls cracked with fault lines, the remnants left behind by the waves of Force energy that had caused wholesale destruction in the Emperor’s chambers. The crown he replaced on Hux's head, the spires catching a bit on the silk spread. The sash and the bloodless red spill of wine down his front made him look like something out of a holo of his childhood, something shot down in its prime, something from a tale of lords and ladies and knights and kings. It was with an almost detached thought that he remembered it.

A white hart, that was it. The fairy stories he’d been told as a child, they said the quest for the white hart was like the beginning of something. Then why did this feel more like an end?

A pardon. Hux had said a pardon. Leave the Empire behind, strike out on his own. He felt like he'd been given a mission. Live the life he could have lived, without Snoke, without the Order or the Empire. Leaving it all behind meant leaving himself behind, his name, everything he'd come to identify as part of himself. The one person he'd come to love in the cold, loveless grip of the dark side. It felt like an impossible quest, but maybe it was something he could pursue.

A nameless man left that place, taking nothing of his former life but the single simple signet ring from the Emperor's finger.

**Author's Note:**

> Somebody please help me for the love of all that is right in this world.  
> Questions, comments, and corrections always appreciated!


End file.
